Chapter Four - "When Opportunity Knocks..."

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you the Head Gamemaker for the Seventy-Sixth Annual Hunger Games...Colonel Antonius Rose, accompanied by his entourage of beautiful and handsome escorts!"

Our part of the stage illuminates, bathing us in a blinding light. I cast a beaming smile towards the flurry of flashing lights, immortalizing myself in history, all while laying a possessive hand on the shoulder and wrist of Antonius, who leans forward against the balcony railing with a suaveness that drives me up the wall for all the right reasons.

The escort for District One, some wide-eyed Corporal, also has her paws on him from the opposite side. Maybe she thought it was cute to mimic me, who knows. A frosty glare from myself is enough to make her behave, removing her paws from him and placing them behind her.

Caesar regards us with awe as the cheers begin to die down. "A Peacekeeper Head Gamemaker and his all-Peacekeeper escort staff...An 'all-white' affair...Interesting, very interesting."

"I'm sure you're dying to ask us questions." Antonius purrs, grinning wildly when he receives raucous outcry in response. "Well, ask away!"

"Colonel, there's an awful lot of PKs taking part in the festivities this year," Caesar says. "Why the sudden change from civilian control to military control?"

"Well Caesar, the President believes that without the help of the Capitol's Peacekeepers, Panem would've been ruined. And with the civilian Gamemakers and staff being so...unreliable as of late, it only makes sense that the military steps in to ensure things run a little smoother this time."

"I can't help but agree! As we've seen over the past year or so, our noble Peacekeepers are the masters of getting things done...am I right folks?!" Caesar says, turning to the crowd for an answer.

More cheers and applause erupt from the crowds. I make sure to maintain my smile while my hand roams the entirety of Toni's back.

"It's been too long, Colonel-"

"Please Caesar, call me Antonius." Toni corrects with a partially raised hand, causing feminine giggles and light cheers from the audience.

"Antonius, we're dying for more Games info! Give us some info! It's been way too long since we had our last fix!" Caesar continues, pouting with puckered lips. "What's your vision for the Games, as a military man?"

"These criminals have to atone for the damage done and lives lost." Toni replies to thunderous cheers and applause. "So it's only natural that the President reformed the stipulations as she did. Now...in terms of the arena, well, I think it serves as a reflection of what sort of is and what could've been..."

""What sort of is and what could've been"...?" Caesar repeats flatly, prompting the audience to murmur. His confused expression immediately melts into one of joy. "I won't press it but I trust you to deliver a Games that will go down in history!"

The crowd roars with applause, Toni takes it all in stride. Caesar locks eyes with me and I widen my smile as far as my face can allow it.

"There seems to be a lot of popular faces among your escorting staff, most notably Panem's 'second daughter', Viondra DeWynter!"

It's my time to shine. From left to right, I wave towards my cheering audience, shifting my smile to a grin as the cameras cut to me.

"Hello Caesar, everyone, I'm happy to be here." I beam.

"Should I call you Lieutenant DeWynter?"

"Viondra's fine, Caesar," I reply with faux bashfulness.

"The DeWynter family seems to be on the up and ups as of late!" he says, causing the audience to murmur in agreement. "Your father, basically our mayor on paper, is now right hand man to President Choudhury as vice president - that's nice. And apparently you've been away, helping to fend off the Rebels! What brings you here? Don't you wanna settle down now that the dust has settled?"

I shake my head. "I still have a lot of Panem to see, Caesar. As I continue to serve, I want to make my own special mark."

The crowd cheers. And this time it's Toni who has the wandering hands.

"I think you already have! Twenty-three years old and she's already nearing the top! We don't call them "Panem's most dutiful family" for fun y'know!"

After a brief back and forth about my experiences during the War, Caesar moves on to general topics before bidding us goodnight. We're then ushered into a colorful lounge where there's drink and food abound. VIPs of all stripes hobnob with one another. Bookies and potential sponsors looking to get a forecast on a profitable district, press looking to get a squeeze for their pieces. Naturally, Toni heads off with the men, leaving me to act as top hen as the other escorts naturally gravitate to me. They serve as a buffer between me and the cameras that I wouldn't mind being in front of right now. I have to remind myself that there'll be more cameras and important faces to face in the near future. Plenty more.

"Congratulations on being District 2 escort, Viondra!" gushes one.

"At least you might have a decent chance, Viondra!" chimes another.

"All the tributes are rebel rugrats, literally all of them." I retort dismissively, downing a Mai Tai. "I have just as much of a chance of pulling a victor as all of you."

I'm used to having a wide circle of social climbers trying to get into my good graces, in fact I revel in it, but I find it odd how dumb they can get in their attempt butter me up. Deciding I had enough of my 'entourage', I decide to sit at the bar proper instead of the booths they occupy, ordering another mai tai before leaving.

Pluto Wellington, the male version of me to a tee, tall, oval-faced, well-kept blond hair and striking blue eyes, takes a seat next to me. Naturally, he has the looks of a DeWynter but not the brains. He had to have had something from his mother's side. He gives me a side hug, something I accept solely because of principle.

"Vi, hello," he says softly.

"Hello Plu..." I reply back in the same tone. "Aren't you supposed to be on a train to Twelve?"

"Yes, I'm just about to head out. I just wanted to touch base with you, is all. One please-" he pays the Avox and offers a short nod. "We barely do."

I shrug. Such is the plight of a bastard child. "That's true."

"Oh Vi, I wish I had your luck!" Plu laments, leaning on my shoulder for extra emphasis. "Sure they're all children of rebels or rebels themselves, but it's District 2. Some of them have to be repentant! I on the other hand, as you know, have the short stick," he gulps down the rum and cola in his hand. "District 12 - the poison of Panem. Mother says it'll help the family name grow, doing this. I pray to the Sun that there are at least one or two decent ones among them."

"We can only hope." I reply dryly. I check my communicuff, noting that I have some time to kill before my train is due to leave the station. I exchange kisses on the cheek with my half-sibling before parting ways. "See you in a day or two, Plu."

Plu isn't wrong. Out of the hundred or so tributes being shoved into the arena, at least one of them will come out alive. I can only hope that that one will be mine. Hopefully someone decent. Someone tossed into the Games because someone in their family rebelled and not them. Someone I can mold into a palatable contender.

Despite being on center stage of such a historic moment in this nation's history, it means bushwa if I have six dead rebel children and nothing to show for it. I know for a fact I'm not going to subject myself to years of herding six dead weight tributes when I could be off bettering my status in other ways.

I wish they allowed volunteers. Six District 2 Careers...That'd be a gas.

Toni is great at a lot of things. Neatness isn't one of them.

Upon entering the office of his townhouse, I couldn't help but notice the classified dossiers lying around, depleted wine bottles and empty glasses among other stationary. They say the smarter one is, the messier their spaces are. On one desk, PBC's Chad Blakely covers a story on the governmental reforms going on in the districts while on another desk, the Head Gamemaker himself peruses through holograms of what appear to be muttations, all while chatting on the phone.

"Why thank you, Madam President...Yes, I assure you everything will be under control." He swivels his chair toward toward the door, a grin forming on his lips at the sight of me. His face contorts into a frown as he swivels back to the holoprojector. "I doubt there will be any disturbance a la HG 74 or 75. If someone speaks out, their prize is a Gamemaker-sponsored death."

I scoff, shaking my head as I sashay my way towards him. Antonius Rose is a workaholic to the nth degree which is a shame because when he lets loose, he really lets loose. All he needs is a little trigger to get the ball rolling.

I remove my garrison cap, placing it on a nearby desk as I shake out my curls and remove my tunic, leaving me in my blouse and skirt as I unfasten a few buttons from the collar downward.

"Sure...there are plenty of big names but look on the bright side - there'll be plenty of names!" He continues, cackling. "I assure you that each and every district-"

I take a seat on his lap, raking a manicured hand through his comb over as I move to unravel his tunic making sure to handle his wide array of commendations gently. I kiss his temple, my lipstick marking him while I travel down the side of his face before kissing him proper. The President continues to drone on on the other end as I slip a hand into his button shirt, caressing his chest as I lean toward his ear, brushing my lip against the lobe.

"Sir..." I whisper. "I have an urgent matter for you to attend. I'm afraid it simply cannot wait."

He lets out a deep, throaty chuckle as I pepper his jaw with kisses. "Oh, Minx-"

""Minx", Colonel...?" the President inquires down the line.

"Oh...whoops. Sorry, Madam President. Unfortunately I have an uh...urgent matter to attend to." Toni rubs his nose against mine. My hands trail from his chest down towards his belt buckle. "I'll be sure to call your office as soon as I'm free again...of course. We're both night owls so it'll work...Okay, goodbye."

I've most definitely triggered something. As soon as he hangs up, "Antonius the workaholic" is all but gone, replaced with the Antonius that's had me swooning since first year politics.

I can't help but squeal as he hooks his arm behind my knees and jostles me into the air, hoisting me as if I weighed nothing.

"You don't have to go, you know." Toni says, adjusting himself by propping himself up by his elbow. His other hand roams my body freely. "I could get someone else, and then you could come back and be my trusty aide..."

I place a cigarette into my ivory holder, leaning towards him as he retrieves a lighter and ignites it for me. My cigarette now lit, I take a drag, allowing the flavored smoke to fill my lungs. I exhale, feeling a million times more relieved than I am already. Lucky Drags - a perfect post-romp capper. The cigarette, coupled with Toni's wonderful bed could have me asleep in a split second if I wanted.

"I won't get promoted into the Grand Assembly if I don't." I reply.

After decades of using national departments to enact legislation from Presidents Ravinstill thru Snow, Egeria Choudhury is reinventing the wheel by bringing back our elected body, just as she did with the reinstatement of the Nationalist Party. Every politico in this town is clamoring for a spot, myself included. I could see myself through the years now, titles changing as I maneuver my way through the halls of governance my way, 'Assemblywoman DeWynter', 'Senator DeWynter'...'President DeWynter'.

That last one makes me quiver more than Toni's magic fingers.

He grunts. "You're the Vice Preside-"

"It's not that easy," I counter. "The country is changing. You saw what happened when Drusilla Snow tried to throw her hat into the Vice Presidential nominations, she got trounced, absolutely trounced! It won't be a cakewalk if she tries for office again. In fact, a Snow will never hold office in Panem again. Last names and money won't exactly cut it, not after what Odair and the traitors said."

On top of the flabbergasting information shared about President Snow's proclivities, the Rebel's had trotted out plenty of Capitol traitors, some long-deported, some recent traitors like Plutarch Heavensbee, to say their piece about the abuses Snow's administration dealt them. Being Snow's right-hand family, we weren't wholly exposed - Father surely has skeletons even if I am unsure - but familial reputations have been utterly ruined and if a DeWynter gets tossed into a position without any work put in, Capitolites will gripe. I wouldn't be able to move forward.

"Fair enough, Minx." Toni replies, playing with a ringlet of my hair. "The 'go-getting' gene is alive and well in you."

I grin, all while exhaling excess smoke. "I'll show you 'go-getting'..."

I'm about to reach under the covers to get things going again when my communicuff vibrates on the nearby chiffonier. I place an ear bud in and accept the call.

"Hello?" I hum, my face breaking out into an expression of pure shock when I turn my attention to the holoclock on Toni's side of the bed. The 'go-getting' gene has its lapses, it seems, because I'm an hour off my original timing.

I shriek, casting the covers aside while springing out of bed to find my discarded clothing.

"If only you stayed, Minx," Toni sighs, watching me compile my garments. "You could 'assist' me by staying in here all Games long, just as you are, a tool for my satisfaction."

I toss a jar of lotion at him as a retort, relishing in his cry of surprise.

I'm no one's trophy.

Citing a "meeting with the Head Gamemaker", no one dares question my tardiness even if I arrive at Grand Central after one in the morning and depart quarter past. Besides a skeleton crew of Avoxes, operators, a platoon of Peacekeepers for security and some bureaucrats on assignment to Two, no one was peeved to hang around a little bit longer. Caesar's show, coupled with my meeting with the Colonel has me sleeping as soon as my body hit the bed. By the time I wake up, we're an hour away from Two's Capital city.

I put on a fresh set of my service dress, a form-fitting dove-grey tunic and skirt with all the trimmings of a junior officer. Just as I finish sorting out my hair, my reflection in the Smartmirror is replaced with a call notification.

Its Father's number.

"Answer," I say, adjusting my posture. We might as well get this out of the way.

Richard DeWynter, the Fourth, appears in the mirror before me. He looks less than pleased, his brows furrowed as he takes me in from head to...chest.

"Where in the hells have you been?!" he hisses. We're cutting straight to the chase, aren't we?

"Haven't you noticed, Father?" I trill, my voice seeping with faux cheeriness. "There was a War going on."

"Oh I am very much aware of recent happenings, Viondra." Father chuckles dryly. "Your brother's untimely passing was barely announced before you decided to abandon this family-"

""Abandon this family"?" I repeat incredulously, pointing to the commendations on my chest. "I picked up Dick's baton! Preserving our family's fortunes indirectly while improving them all while avenging Dick's honor! How many of my peers could say the same, hm?! Cowering in their panic rooms up in Elysium Fields, answer me that!"

With Dick getting shot down and dying in District 8, I'm the next best bet for this branch of the family. Father is the matriarch of the wider family, which consists of many of his siblings. They'll never attain high office. The only service my cousins saw was desk duty in the Citadel. Dick is dead, no longer the first born. I'm the eldest. Armitage can't even grow facial hair at second youngest and my younger sisters below him are destined to be beautiful wives who'll never work a day - like most DeWynter girls.

"Trust me I am very pleased about your contributions to the family at such a young age." He replies tersely. "But you've gone way too far. Do you know how ragged your mother has ran me over the past couple of months? Don't get me started on Victoria and Violet. Your mother almost turned invalid when she found out you were wounded in action. You didn't even bother to return our correspondence and then disappear for months on end! Tell me Viondra, why should I not be angry?"

"I'm alive and well, aren't I?" I say, ignoring how lame my response is. "I can hack it just as well as Dick did."

"And now you're heading off to District 2...for what exactly?" he says, ignoring me.

"To forge my own path," I reply without skipping a beat. "I need to distinguish myself more-"

"You already had a path, remember?" he interjects. "I take it Nigel Arnoult is out of sight out of mind?"

I roll my eyes at the mention of his name. I was arranged to be engaged to him by the time I finished secondary school, I stalled throughout university and dove head first into the Regular Army by the time my brother was killed.

"Yes-"

"That's good, because he decided to discreetly end things," Father continues, "Citing your involvement in the War, of course."

Good riddance. Mother is a fool if she thought I'd marry that poor excuse of a man.

"This new era is ripe with opportunity," I say after a minute of silence. "And I'm going to take it, all the way to the top. I may not be Dick, or a man, but you'll see. When you do, I'll be happy to have you by my side."

I'm going to rise as Viondra DeWynter, dutiful officer of the Peacekeeper Forces and whatever titles come my way. Viondra DeWynter, "Daddy's girl", is out of the question. So is Viondra - 'insert last name of one of Father or Mother's friends'. I won't be anyone's trophy wife.

"We'll see about that." Father says. His face lightens up as I spot the faintest of smirks on his lip. "When you get back here, you be sure to find us immediately. No gallivanting...Be safe out there."

With the transmission cut, so is the tension. It felt good to stand up for what I believe in, to get out of their grasp and go about life my own way.

Just as I make my way out of my compartment, two fully-armored Peacekeepers make their way inside, a sergeant and a corporal. I'm about to chew them out when I hear happy wooping. At their feet are my beautiful hyena cubs, gifted to me by Toni, Mars and Juniper.

"Oh my, well hello you two!" I coo, massaging their heads as they paw at my knees. "It's only been one day apart yet you two are so excited."

"Delivering the pups wasn't our only tasking, ma'am," says the Corporal.

"As per your father's orders, we're to be your security for the duration of the reaping and beyond unless told otherwise," explains the Sergeant. He clears his throat, "And also, you defer your command to us when the situation calls for it."

I smile from ear to ear. Even as I run away, Father's control over me remains strong. "Splendid."

Upon disembarking the train, we're greeted by and exchange courtesies with a general officer, a tall, stocking colored woman by the name of 'RANKINE' judging by her name tag. I immediately recognize that Wade Rankine didn't fall far from the tree at all. She introduces herself as 'Provisional Governor' of District 2.

"Interesting title, Ma'am," I quip wryly.

"The civvies can't do it, so I guess we have to handle the reigns for a little while." She replies, gesturing to the staff car that awaits us. I decide not to talk about her fallen son, Wade. I assume she's strong enough and has heard enough sorries to last a lifetime.

I spend the short drive to the Hall of Justice taking in the District I served in. District 2 is still District 2, the omnipresent overcast hasn't let up, despite this, every mid-rise building sports banners, balloons and murals marking the momentous occasion. Civilians mill about, smiling and laughing as they crowd into various establishments.

I nod to myself. They really scrubbed the mark of death off this place. If I squint, I can still see the rubble strewn about with the occasional body and burnt out husks of automobiles mixed in.

"There's word President Choudhury wants to make this permanent."

"Make what permanent?" I reply.

"The role of governor," Rankine explains, "A capitol-appointed point man that'll run the district with more breathing room. Things are going so well here, I thought I might throw my hat into the ring."

"Interesting," I reply, my voice sounding distant. I mean, anything that'll keep the districts calm and pacified. That, and the positions go to worthy persons - loyal persons. If anything, I'm surprised the President is extending the olive branch so soon.

I go back to mapping out the district, taking in the familiar places and boy where they familiar. I remember there, my convoy got ambushed. That's where I ran for cover under tremendous fire, that's where a piece of marble almost rendered me dead or paralyzed for life...

The Hall of Justice didn't escape unharmed from the War. The Capitol's counterattack made the building a lightning rod for changing hands. The outer scaffolding and plaster surrounding the building and square collides with the decorations to create a rather ugly atmosphere. The inside is completely gutted, damaged by fire, graffiti from the various combatants among other debris. Despite the maladjustment of the atmosphere, the attending dignitaries hobnob with one another as if nothing were amiss. I attend wreath laying ceremonies and marching parades all while entertaining various councilmen, fellow Capitolites and high-ranking Peacekeepers such as the Commandant of Barron Overwhill Academy. My status as 'Second Daughter' has everyone trying to have my ear, which I take in stride, knowing that my brand in the new Panem will rely on cementing connections.

If being a DeWynter has taught me one thing, it's that there's no such thing as 'overextending' ones connections. The farther spread your roots are, the better your life will be.

The stage is built upon the steps of the Justice Building. As I make my way towards my seat, I can't help but notice the twelve empty velvet chairs, each bearing the name of Two's victors, twelve in all. When I sit down, I find myself pumping the hands of the Provisional Governor's gigantic brood, happy to meet their district's new escort...and her pets. Their ages are indeterminate, from their twenties to the latest addition of a few months, the Governor's daughter.

"Her name is Jasper, Jasper Rankine." A young cadet and Rankine relative by the name of Domita Wilson, explains. "Ain't she the cutest?"

With my gloved finger, I allow the infant to grab hold. I'm surprised the Governor had the time.

"Of course she is. It's a shame she couldn't meet her big brother." I reply. "I'm sure she'll grow up to be just like him."

The square is quite busy by the time the preliminary ceremonies wrap up. The locals who have no legal obligation to the Capitol - those who were deemed 'loyal' - were granted to stay home, leaving the square choked full of men, women and children in striped jumpsuits. I can't help but smile at their downcast faces, the way their sunken eyes gawp at the stage, at the mahogany table where two boxes hold the three designated names for each gender.

"They deserve it." Domita says from beside me, her arms folded as she keeps her gaze on the masses before us. "Too bad we can't just reap them all."

I hum in agreement, grinning as I give her shoulder a slight squeeze. "Don't worry Cadet. The camps they're sent to are a Games within themselves."

I would know.

The show begins at one in the afternoon, following the playing of the national anthem and the raising of Panem's flag, which comes across as a middle finger to the rebellious youth that occupy the square with their extremely downcast faces. Governor Rankine bounds up to the microphone, welcoming the guests and viewers before delving into the Treaty of Treason. She then names out all the victors Two has garnered over the years, from Barron Overwhill to Wade Rankine, her emotions don't betray her.

Lyme Rabe isn't mentioned in this homage.

"And now," I straighten myself gingerly as my moment finally arrives, "May I introduce District Two's escort for this year's Hunger Games, First Lieutenant Viondra DeWynter."

I leave Mars and Juniper with the Rankine family as I rise to my feet and take to the microphone. Besides the spectators in the wings and the dignitaries that sit on the stage with me, the applause is minimal, though I don't care in the slightest. My satisfaction comes from the reaping pool and the reaping pool only. In the sea of petrified faces, a sizeable amount glares at me as if they want lightning to strike me down where I stand.

I wonder, as these people gawk at me, if some of them remember me. Just like in the camps, the power to do anything I please is in my hands. All they can do is stand there and take it.

I flash the cameras a playful grin as I tap the microphone. "Welcome one and all to the Seventy-Sixth Annual Hunger Games, which is sure to be one for the history books! Now, before we continue, let us watch a film that will give us a much needed reminder as to why we commemorate this occasion."

I anticipate President Snow's voice, only to be surprised when I hear his successor's feminine voice reciting the same "War, Terrible War" speech. I'm about to continue on with my portion when the speech continues past its usual conclusion.

"That future was threatened once more," continues President Choudhury. "After seventy-four years of peace and prosperity, a naïve girl and her proxies whose names shall not be uttered, driven by selfish desire, plunged the nation into yet another civil war. Alas, thanks to those brave and loyal citizens who heeded their nations call, the war was won. With a renewed covenant between Capitol and Districts as one collective, Panem now enters an unprecedented century of peace and prosperity. One based on trust, understanding of the roles we all play and unwavering loyalty to the state. In all these things, The Hunger Games serves as the centerpiece. It is with them that we safeguard our past and future more than ever."

I pivot from the screen back to the audience. "That surely adds some spice to things. Now, it is time now to select a group of male and female tributes to represent District 2 in this year's Hunger Games. Yes, I said 'group'."

I motion for the cameras to capture the table that holds the two ornate boxes containing the names.

"Due to your selfishness this past year, the Capitol has pre-selected four females and four males for a total of eight- yes eight- tributes. There will be no volunteers." I scan the crowd, taking in their faces once more before fixating on the cameras. "Let's start off with the boys, shall we? Switch things up a little bit."

The same Corporal from the train aides me by holding the ornate box containing four, blue-colored slips of paper. With no pretense I take one and proceed to open it with a manicured thumb. I haven't even said a word yet one of the children in the audience faints, judging by the commotion in one of the aisles.

Snorting, I continue on anyways. "Jeremiah Dixen!"

Even from all the way up here, I could hear a screech from the female side of the aisle. From the screen I watch as the cameras desperately cut through the male aisles when they focus on the eighteens, specifically on a black boy of average stature. His eye glasses and crew cut immediately peg him as 'less than' in comparison to the handsome young men that come from the local Academy. The Peacekeepers waste no time shoving through the aisle to reach him and bring him to the stage. Just as he makes his way up the steps, a girl from the thirteens pokes her head out into the aisle only to be shoved back into place. He looks even more a mess right here next to me, constantly fidgeting with his glasses and gabardine jacket.

I move onto the next one. "Lucas Shadd!"

Due to the orderliness of the lines, it's easy to see the pale-skinned boy take one pace forward on the screen. From the sixteen's aisle, he murmurs to himself all the way down the aisle until he's on the left-hand side of me.

"I didn't do anything...h-he did it...Just his nephew..." he says. Jeremiah whispers something to him, causing him to grin sadly. I scowl at the sight. I have two pathetic boys so far. They wear civilian clothing, which won't earn them as much scorn as active rebels, but they're still pathetic in stature!

I crack open the next slip. Sweet Panem, please please please give me a sheik! "And the next male tribute is...Eldwyn Bishop!"

Another eighteen emerges from the line and into the aisle. The Peacekeepers attempt to take him, but he shoves them off, only to get a club upside the head as he's forcibly escorted to my side, frowning all the while. I hum gingerly, taking in his impressive stature from head to toe. Was he a turncoat cadet or a strapping quarryman in the making? The orange octagon on his camp jumpsuit paints him as an active rebel. Could I make a rebel into a victor? Perhaps...all he needs is a good talking to.

I crack open the last slip. "Our last male tribute is a Slate Lawson."

What a poor showing from the usual 2 hunks that grace the stage. The fourteen's section parts to allow a brown-haired boy with too much baby face to be escorted to my side by the Peacekeepers. The fact that he's a passive rebel, he doesn't wear a jumpsuit, is moot due to the fact that he wouldn't last a day with his stature. The mother's crying gets picked up by the microphones set up in the wings where the spectators watch and is abruptly cut off.

Altogether, I'm one for six. I'm not impressed with the pickings right now.

"And now, we move to the ladies." I say as I turn around and collect a pink colored slip and crack it open. My eyes go wide with surprise as I regard the name in my hands. "Lilith Rabe!"

The crowd bursts into murmurs as all the girls surrounding Lilith in the eighteen's give her a wide berth, causing the cameras to snap onto her immediately. Being a relative to the infamous victor, she too has the same impressive build and towering height. Hells, she even has the same short-styled blonde hair and cold eyes as she does. She's shocked at first but immediately snaps out of it, her face hardening as she strides out from her section and into the hands of the awaiting Peacekeepers.

My brain cheers at the possibilities to be had with a victor's relative in my hands. But then we glare each other down as she bounds the steps.

"And here I thought the Rabe's were history?!" I quip, maintaining my jovial mask. Being Toni's adjutant made me privy to a lot of intelligence reports. Lyme was killed by a cadet in battle, her relatives tossed into camps and those who fled to other districts were themselves killed.

"Not yet." She replies curtly, standing on the right hand side of the table. Arms folded, she maintains her defiant persona. Eldwyn exchanges nods with the victor's relative, prompting me to exhale sharply through my nose.

I turn my attention to the second slip in the box. She's a Rabe, the cream of the scummy crop that was the Rebel Army. I doubt that any sense could be spoken into her.

"The next female tribute is..." upon reading the name on the card, I can't help but groan at the sight of it knowing full well who it is. "Eunice Dixen...It appears you and your sister will be together for a little while longer, Jeremiah!"

Maybe Father was right about this little venture. I watch the thirteen's section as the little black girl struggles to make her way toward the aisle. She shakes like a leaf, her head snapping up toward the screens as the cameras cut to their mother, who with tears dribbling down her face, shakes her head in utter disbelief.

She faints just as the Peacekeepers shove past the kids to collect her. She has to be scooped up by one of them and brought up to Jeremiah, who holds her hand. Even with her brother's support, she can barely stand on her own, wobbling back and forth like a branch in the wind. Lilith tries to render aid but is forcibly kept back by a Peacekeeper. Lovely.

I beam towards the cameras. This escorting thing isn't so fun anymore. What did I expect, really? "Now, let's move onto our last female tribute and our eighth and final tribute overall!"

Three are destined for the bloodbath, two will be killed off by the Gamemakers for sure, and the last is anyone's guess. Toni is right. These Games are going to be very airtight.

I crack open another slip, forcing myself not to give the cameras an overt reaction. "Tatiana Gibbs!"

The eighteens part for a bulky black girl with the deepest of scowls on her face. She shrugs off the hands of the escorting Peacekeepers, choosing to lock eyes with me her entire walk down to the stage. I don't back down, gazing her back down with a cordial grin that grows wider when she spits at my feet, prompting the Peacekeepers to strike her and keep her as far away from me as possible.

I chuckle quietly, turning back to the Corporal who holds the cards. I don't blame her for wanting to throttle me. The things I did to her dreg family in the Camps warrant such an attitude. She has herself to blame for allowing her family to undermine the Capitol.

I crack open the final slip. "The last female tribute is..."

Noticing slight activity in my peripherals, I lift my head and squint my eyes, watching as a girl marches toward the stage from the seventeen's pen.

"What the hells...?"

My head whips back toward the seating, where Cadet Wilson stands, gawking in utter disbelief. Frowning, I consult the screens for a better look.

A healthy dish of a girl with rosy-pale skin, light brunette hair styled in a wavy shoulder-length bob makes her way towards me with such determination that floors even the Peacekeepers that guard the aisles. She doesn't even pay them attention as she breezes by soldier after soldier.

The yellow, polka dot dress and navy cardigan she flaunts are in stark contrast to the majority striped jumpsuits that occupy the square. She sticks out so much that I could see the heads of everyone near swivel on their necks as she breezes by. She walks the hundreds of meters to the stage, only to be blocked by Peacekeepers. I order them to let her pass.

Good HV is good HV.

"Um...May I help you?" I chime, tilting the microphone in her direction. Her gaze doesn't leave me.

"Reap me." Her voice is as steely as her expression. The boom of the microphone only adds to the intensity.

I let out a cackle. Is she a sibling to Mr. Bishop or Mr. Shadd? "Where have you been, a cabin in District 7? No volunteers are allowed-"

I barely register the hook that collides with my cheek, causing me to teeter as my garrison cap falls off. The other Peacekeepers are on her in an instant, tackling her to the ground, the microphone tumbling with her.

"Reap me!" she cries, shrieking on top of her lungs. "Reap me! Reap me! Reap me!"

She hits hard, but being in the PNPK allows me to take the blow in stride. They can take the prissiest of Capitolites and turn them into tough men and women. Adjusting my cap, I turn towards the cameras with slight confusion on my face, only for that confusion to immediately melt into a wide grin that bunches my cheeks up. You know what they say, when opportunity knocks...

I turn my attention back to the girl, chuckling. "Oh me, oh my, what do we have here, a rebel with a death wish?! So be it!" I pick up the abandoned final female slip. "Noelle Moore, see you next year because this spitfire really wants to end it all!"

I motion for the Peacekeepers to raise her from off the ground. To my surprise, she still carries that glare on her face as my eyes meet hers. I lean into her space, capturing her chin between my manicured fingers.

"I don't think you quite understand what you've gotten yourself into, darling." I pivot on my heels, turning back toward the audience and cameras. "But we'll find out soon enough, won't we!?"

The Peacekeepers move the mahogany table, allowing me to put myself in between the male and female tributes. Having witnessed all that, they seem rightfully perplexed. I can't blame them. I seem to have gained a boost of energy. No longer do I feel that escorting is a failed venture on my part.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your tributes for the Seventy-Sixth Annual Hunger Games representing District 2, Jeremiah Dixen, Lucas Shadd, Eldwyn Bishop, Slate Lawson, Lilith Rabe, Eunice Dixen, Tatiana Gibbs and this spitfire who we will get to know better very soon! Now, shake hands everyone."

"Uh, Ms. DeWynter..." The Governor says from her chair, her face scrounging in confusion as she raises a finger. "She can't volunteer...It's against the rules-"

I shrug. "Why not? She's begging as if being here is her whole world! I say let her have the spot. One anomaly won't hurt anyone." I turn my attention to the female side of the audience, waggling a finger. "Don't you run off now, Noelle Moore, we have a date next July!"

I turn back towards 'my tributes' who eye me as if I have a hundred heads.

"Well, shake hands! You know the drill."

The five of them shake hands awkwardly, gawking at their sixth partner before being roughly hustled away by Peacekeepers to say their good-byes. I watch as my exciting edition is taken away, finally severing her glare toward me. All the sitting dignitaries continue to gawk at the girl as she's taken away. Cadet Wilson's eyes flicker to me before following after the spitfire. Did she know her? Interesting. What's even more interesting is the reaction of the Academy Commandant, who chats fervently with another female Peacekeeper before maneuvering their way up the steps and into the building proper.

The loudspeakers then command those who are interned to return to the trucks they were brought here in, leaving me to mull over the recent turn of events with a grin on my lips, my tongue flickering out ever so slightly.

I'm truly one for six and one for six isn't all that bad anymore...

"Governor," I say to the older lady as she makes her way to my side. "Do you mind giving me information on that girl?"

"Of course, I'll get one of my aides to send something to your datapad..." She replies, calling for one of her subordinates quickly.

"Thank you, Governor," I say. "Oh and please, tell your other staff to keep their mouths shut about the mystery girl...I'd like to control who knows what."

"Of course, Ms. DeWynter."

I get the notification almost immediately, not long after my little friend's debut. Rankine runs a tight ship it seems. I sink a hand into my clutch, retrieving my datapad and open it to reveal the Defense Department service record of the girl in question. I let out a cackle of pure glee as I begin to peruse through the information in my hands.

"Now...What's your tale, Rivendell?"

atonement76 . weebly . com

! - Every character needs an origin story. My fabled OC, Viondra DeWynter has been added to the blog via "Characters Continued" Some might remember her from my SYOTs or Emery Means Brave. Her 'actress' would be Tricia Helfer from Lucifer and Battlestar Galatica. I look forward to showcasing her character even more and adding an additional layer to her aside from the generic "Prologue Part 1" President trope. Of course, her exotic pets, Mars and Juniper are along for the ride.

! - The matriarch of the DeWynter family, Vice President Richard DeWynter IV has been added to the blog via "Characters Continued". I've definitely taken influences from different WASP-y families, I'll let those of you politically and historically inclined to think about which - which is only one family, really.